


the road was a ribbon of moonlight (sonata)

by willurosinmybow



Category: Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF, twoset violin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Guns, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Musicians, Past Lives, Period-Typical Homophobia, Story within a Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24596725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willurosinmybow/pseuds/willurosinmybow
Summary: When Eddy meets Brett at music camp, his past and future lives collideakathe queer retelling of a ghost story that no one asked for
Relationships: Breddy - Relationship, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	the road was a ribbon of moonlight (sonata)

In the evening, he played piano for the guests of the inn as they ate and drank, quietly, alone and in pairs. The usual local crowd hadn't come out to drink that night, and the room as a whole felt weary from travel and in need of respite. So instead of his usual tunes, he played something slow and soft and emotional. 

After he played the last note, he looked up to a clink of coins in the upturned hat by his side, and smiled at the giver. 

That same night, when everyone else had long since retired, he sat awake in the window of his second story bedroom. Waiting. Watching. The moon bright and high in the sky, his eyes fixed on the empty road.

*

"Hey, you coming?"

Eddy turns away from the cabin window with a gasp. One of the other kids is standing there, Brian or something, red hair that stuck up every which way and a tentative grin on his face. 

"The supper bell's rung twice now," he says. 

Eddy shakes off the weird feeling he just had when he looked out the window, and returns the smile. "Yeah, thanks. I can't believe I didn't hear the bell, I guess I was spacing out real hard."

"Ha! Well you can't miss meals, you're skinny enough as it is," Brian says, like he's one to talk. He's even taller and more knobbly than Eddy. Not that Eddy noticed particularly or is looking or anything. They head out of their cabin, which they share with 6 other boys, and walk over to the mess hall. "Is this your first time at camp?"

"Yeah," Eddy nods. He didn't want to come at first - leaving his friends and having to meet and interact with loads of new strangers was far from his idea of fun, even if it was for only two weeks. But his parents decided without him that music camp would be what was best for him, so that was that. Eddy has to admit it's been pretty alright so far - all of the other kids are friendly and nice, and he even got to practice piano for two hours without his sister interrupting him to take over. "What about you?"

"It's my second year," Brian says, which makes sense - he seems to know way more kids. Eddy trails after him to get food and follows him to a table that mostly consists of their own cabin, plus a few girls from the cabin next door. 

Eddy sits down. As he looks around at the other tables, he happens to lock eyes with a kid who's sitting alone. He's asian, with short spiky hair and glasses. After a moment, he scowls and looks away from Eddy. Eddy can't shake the feeling of instant recognition. Did they know each other?

"Do you know what that is?" Eddy asks Brian, gesturing over at the boy. 

"Oh, that's Brett," Brian says dismissively. "He plays violin, he's really good, but he's an asshole. He doesn't talk to anyone, says he's too busy practising all the time. Like, you can't practice every minute of the day, what's even the point of coming to camp?"

"I've heard his parents are rich and they like, make him come every year just so they can have a vacation by themselves," the girl next to him - Tina? Tanya? - says. "Not that I blame them wanting to get away from him. He's pretty insufferable."

"Oh," Eddy says faintly. "He just kinda, glared at me."

Brian laughs. "If you're scared of that, don't even try to talk to him. He'll bite your head off."

*

Edward noticed the thief for the first time when he heard the tune the man was whistling, and recognised it as one of his own. He'd seen the thief around, of course, but had never fully took his measure until now. His clothes were fine, soft velvety coat and breeches, riding boots that came up over his knees, a frill of lace at his collar. He dressed like a lord, but he didn't act like a lord, and he didn't look like one either, not with the hard look in his eyes and the hard calluses on his hands. That was Edward's first clue that he was a thief, and not a gentleman.

"You have a fine horse," he found himself saying. "Can I bring him some water?"

The man looked down at him in surprise, then nodded. As he dismounted, Edward saw the glint of the pistols strapped to his waist, beneath his coat. Edward came back with a full bucket, and the man and the horse were waiting for him at the front of the inn. The horse was very fine, with an arched and well-muscled neck and a glossy black coat. Edward didn't much care about horses. He was much more interested in the man. 

"Do you know who plays the piano here?" the man asked, with a nod to the inn. 

"I do," Edward said, and then he felt the weight of the man's full regard on him. He felt like... the man was trying to stare into his soul, and he was succeeding at it. Edward fought down a blush. "Would you like - I could play for you - if you liked?" he stuttered out instead. 

"Now?"

Edward jerked his head in a nod, heart pounding unbelievably fast. 

"Yes," said the man. He hitched his horse up to the post and followed Edward into the inn.

*

At night, by the campfire, they tell ghost stories. Eddy looks for any sign of Brett, but doesn't see him. Is he really still practising? Eddy can't put his finger on it, but he has to know Brett from somewhere. Maybe they played in orchestra together? Or met at a competition?

" - of course, the best story is the one that happened here," Fiona is saying, her voice lowered to a dramatic whisper. 

"Just because the mess hall used to be an old inn doesn't mean it's haunted," another girl scoffs. 

"It's not haunted because it's old," Fiona says, rolling her eyes. "It's haunted because there was a double suicide there. Or a double murder, depending on how you look at it."

"Oh c'mon, everyone's already heard that one a thousand times already," a guy across the fire says loudly, even though Eddy hasn't and he's interested. "I can tell you one better - the story of the drowning ghost... "

*

The thief stopped by occasionally, usually when there weren't many people around, lingering as he watched Edward play the piano, tend to the bar, doing whatever needed to be done to help out his father with the inn.

"Are you ever going to tell me your name?" Edward asked the thief, setting down a mug of warm mead in front of him.

The thief just smirked. "It's better that you don't know," he said cryptically. 

Edward looked around the inn. The few other guests were engrossed in their meals, and no one would likely come in for awhile. He sat down opposite of the thief and on impulse, clasped the man's hands, already wrapped around the warm mug, in his own. "Don't you trust me?" he asked playfully. 

The thief smiled at him fully, and it was dazzling how much of a transformation came over his face. He looked young and carefree and very, very handsome. "I don't trust myself," he said, and did not pull away from Edward's touch.

*

The second time Eddy sees Brett, he literally runs into him coming out of his practice room. Brett looks as startled as Eddy feels, his face pale and his eyes damp. Wait, was he crying?

"Watch it," Brett snarls a second later, drawing himself up, and Eddy's concern is wiped out by indignation. 

"You're the one standing in front of my practice room like a creep," he says, finding a sudden rush of courage.

"Maybe I just wanted to know who was playing Moonlight Sonata so badly," Brett sneers, and Eddy's heart falls. Everyone was right - Brett really is an asshole. He bites his lip, trying not to cry, hating that he even felt like bursting into tears in the first place. He isn't the best at piano, he knows, he's been focussed more on violin lately, but he thought it would be fun to play piano as a break. It'd be different if he had his violin... although, would it?

Probably not. Maybe Brett would be even more of an asshole about it, if he perceived him as competition. 

"Whatever," Eddy mutters, and shoves Brett's shoulder with his own as he pushes past him and away from the music hall. He hears Brett gasp behind him, like he's offended that Eddy dare touch him or something. Eddy doesn't care. He wants to go home. He misses his friends, who aren't weird and mean like Brett. At least his cabin is empty right now - half the kids are practising still, probably, and the other half are at afternoon activities. He hides in his bed and tries to think about anything but stupid Brett.

*

Edward heard the tap on his window amid his scattered dreams, and it took him a moment to wake and realise that he could still hear it. He slipped out of bed and looked down as he saw the leather tongue of a riding crop tap against the frame.

The thief was astride his horse beneath the window, standing up in his stirrups to reach Edward's window. Edward looked out, infinitely surprised. 

"You won't be seeing me for awhile, I'm afraid," the thief said. There was a new rapier on his belt, the handle ornate and jewel-encrusted, gleaming in the oil-lit street lamps. 

"Where are you going?" Edward asked softly, but the thief just shook his head. 

"I'll come back when I can. I haven't forgotten about you," the thief said. "Before I go, I wanted to give you this."

He held up a small pouch. Edward leaned down from his window and it was enough to be able to take the pouch from the thief's clever hand. 

"What is this - " Edward said, his words cut off as the pouch opened up into his hand. Inside was enough gold pieces to pay off the last of the inn's longstanding loan, and more besides. He looked out at the thief again, eyes wide. "You needn't - "

"Shh," the thief said. "Will you give me your hand again?"

Edward reached out again, trembling slightly, wondering what would come next. The thief put his own fingers to his lips and kissed them, then touched them to Edward's. 

"Just - remember me. I'll come back to you in moonlight." He sunk down into his stirrups again, and galloped off into the night.

*

"Hey, Fiona," Eddy says shyly, even more so when the others around the campfire start paying attention. "Can you tell the story of the old inn ghosts? I don't know it."

"Of course!" Fiona practically shouts in her enthusiasm. Some of the other new campers lean forward in interest as well. "So it takes place back in the old days, when there used to be a small town here and everyone rode horses and stuff to get around. First, there's the highwayman. He's this robber who rides around on a horse with like, guns and swords, and robs rich people on the road. He holds up carriages and makes them give him all their money and jewels, and if they refuse to do it, he kills them. And he's so sneaky and stealthy that no one can capture him or bring him down. 

"Except he has this problem. He's in love with the old innkeeper's daughter - "

"No, no, no," another kid butts in. "I heard it was the innkeeper's son. They were friends and he wanted to become a highwayman too."

"Maybe he was in love with the innkeeper's son," Tanya says with a sly grin. 

"Don't be stupid, people couldn't be gay back then," Fiona says. "Do you want to hear the story or not? He's in love with the innkeeper's daughter, so he keeps coming back to meet with her in secret. But one night, someone overhears them... "

*

It was nearly a fortnight later before Edward saw the thief again, and the moon was bright and close to full, a shining piece of silver in the sky. When he finally heard the tap at his window, he flew to the window to find what he'd been waiting for, then downstairs to let the thief in.

"You're back," Edward whispered, as he took full measure of the man. The thief had a new hat, and a new wine-red coat. He looked hearty and hale, with nary a scratch on him, and his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at Edward. He finished hitching his horse to the post, then came inside. 

"I can't stay long," he said back, his voice a little strange and ill-remembered to Edward's ear. It made Edward shiver to hear it. 

"Come to my room and rest a bit," Edward said. "Unless you're hungry?"

The thief shook his head. "Only for your company."

Once safely in his bedroom, Edward turned and embraced the thief, crushing the fabric of his new coat beneath his fingertips. It was as soft as it looked, like a newborn chick's fluff over the man's hard shoulders.

"You've not asked me where I've been," the thief said. 

"I don't care," Edward said fiercely. "Just that you came back to me."

The thief looked at Edward with long consideration. "You asked for my name only once, do you remember?" he said.

Edward nodded, breath catching. 

"It's Bret," the thief said, and Edward had barely finished mouthing his thief's name - Bret - before he was being kissed throughly and possessively, and Edward could feel the whole strength of Bret's body against his own. Edward blindly grasped at the velvet coat, trying to pull him closer, although it was not physically possible. They were already as close as they could get. Almost. 

Bret shrugged off the velvet coat and dropped it to the floor in a crumpled heap, uncaring. He undid Edward's shirt buttons as easily as if they were his own, then laid Edward down onto the narrow bed. 

"Are you afraid?" Bret said as he prowled over Edward, his hand over the buttons of Edward's trousers. 

"Never of you," Edward said. "Come closer."

Bret did.

*

Eddy can't sleep. He's still thinking of the old inn, his mind going over and over the story Fiona told (with countless interruptions from the other campers). Something about it feels undeniably familiar, like being told a story he's already heard before. Not just heard - known, down to his bones. On the other hand, he has no idea when he would have heard such a story before. The mystery of it, the feeling that realisation or knowledge is just beneath his reach, is driving him mad, he swears.

He's in the mess hall now, only - it's not the mess hall, with its plastic benches and bright white lights and buffet stations. It's... a dining hall, with a low burning fire in the hearth, shabby tapestries adorning the walls, rough-hewn wooden tables and chairs. Eddy walks carefully through the hall, afraid to break the spell, when a loud banging comes on the front door, and then it burst opens. 

The sheriff and his men come pouring in, armed with pistols and muskets, some even with bayonets. Two of them grab Eddy by the arms, hurting him as he instinctively struggles to get away. "You've been charged with consorting with a known criminal," the sheriff says, with a gleam of triumph in his eye. He nods at his men. "Set up in his room and keep him quiet, and let's end this once and for all."

Eddy glances at the window with dawning fear. It's dusk now, a mere few hours before the highwayman would come. And no way to warn him. 

Two of the men drag him upstairs, and guess correctly at his room although he won't tell them. No matter how much he struggles, he can't get free.

Once they're in his room, they gag and bind him, tying his arms behind him to his bed. "Not so glamorous now, is it?" one of the men says, and kicks him hard in the ribs. "I heard from our source that not only do you let him come here and drink your wine and take his coin, you let him fuck you as well. Is that right? Must be good if he keeps coming back here. Maybe I'll find out myself once he's dead. Once we shoot him down on the road like he deserves."

"Finish tying the lad up and come keep watch," the other man says in a bored tone. 

The first man jams a musket into Eddy's chest and ties it up next to him. "Keep good watch, lover boy." Then he takes up his spot at the window. 

From his spot, Eddy can just see the empty road. What good would struggling do? Even if he could break free, he can't overtake the two men in his room, not to mention all the others throughout the inn. Still, he struggles. The ropes cut into his wrists as he tries to find the slightest bit of give, sweat and blood starting to run down into his hands, as tears run down his face.

They would let him ride up to the window and gun him down at point blank range, and Eddy will have to watch. Watch, helpless and bound. There has to be another way. 

It's hours of hell, hours of testing the ropes, of flayed flesh and desperation, to gain the slightest freedom. Just enough to touch the guard of the musket, then the trigger. To curl his finger around the trigger of the musket aimed at his heart. That small freedom, no more and no less. 

The church bell strikes midnight, and Eddy waits, heart pounding. He shuts his eyes and listens. Listens because if he doesn't, he might be too late. 

A few minutes later, and he can hear the faint clatter of hooves on the road, so faint but echoing so loudly in his heart that it's all he can hear. Each step bringing him closer to his death. He can see a faint dot on the horizon now, moving quickly. 

Eddy is out of time. He pulls the trigger.

*

"Edward!" someone howls in his ear, and Eddy gasps awake, coming to on the floor of an empty, unfamiliar room. He's lying next to someone, presumably the same person who shouted, but it's too dark for him to see their face. A moment later, the other person makes the same horrifying gasping noise, more like coming back from the dead than waking from a dream, and his eyes blink open.

"How could you?" Eddy whispers, reaching out to cup the other person's face, as tear-wet as his own. "I tried to save you."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Brett gasps out. "When I heard - I couldn't think. All I wanted was to get back to you. You were the only thing I loved."

"I didn't know. Until I heard the story - I didn't know you got away in the first place. I didn't know you came back."

"I couldn't - thinking of how they made you wait for me, made you suffer - nothing mattered anymore. It was like - feeling an empty pit of rage, and riding straight into it." Brett moves to sit up, and Eddy lets him go. Sits up next to him, arms curled around his knees. "I knew it was you as soon as I saw you."

"So you avoided me?" Eddy says, feeling slowly pulled more and more back into the present. The overwhelming fear and love, all the feelings that aren't truly his own, are fading into the distance the more awake he becomes. 

"I've had - I've known for a long time. I've had the dreams every summer I've come here, and I've heard all the stories," Brett says, and looks away. "I didn't want it to be true."

"Why?" Eddy says after a bit. "Because... it's me?"

Brett gives him a blank look. 

"Cos you hate me?" Eddy prompts. "Or maybe you were hoping I'd be a girl?"

"Oh, that," Brett says. "Whatever. I just... didn't want to be trapped in someone else's ghost story. It's just... weird."

"Um, yeah," Eddy says. "Agreed." His face feels raw from crying, and he still feels like he's recovering from the biggest anxiety attack of his life. "Speaking of which... we should probably get out of here before someone catches us."

They sneak out of the room, and down the stairs, then open the door to the dimly-lit mess hall. Eddy shivers, remembering the dining hall from his dream.

"Weird, I didn't even know there were stairs here," Brett says. "I mean, I guess I knew, but I've never seen them before."

They get outside. The camp is so quiet and still at this hour of night - no music, no workshops, no kids playing and shouting. Even the mosquitoes seem to be sleeping. Only a sliver of the full moon can be seen in the cloudy sky.

Eddy looks down at their hands, clutched together as they walked. He doesn't want to let go, and he can tell Brett doesn't want to either, but eventually as if by mutual agreement, they uncurl their tense fingers and separate. 

"Um, I'll see you tomorrow," Eddy says, and feels like an idiot. 

Brett looks at him, face inscrutable. "Yeah," he says, and then turns away to go to his cabin. 

Eddy bites his lip hard to distract himself and does the same. Yeah could mean anything. It didn't mean Brett never wanted to talk to him again... right? There's no reason to cry, none at all. Besides, he's already cried enough for two lifetimes this night.

*

The next day, Eddy finds Brett sitting alone on a log while they're all supposed to be doing rhythmic interpretation or something... basically, it's devolved into everyone just playing with all of the drums. "Hey," he says, and sits down next to him.

Brett nods at him, and something in Eddy's chest eases a little bit. They just listen to the rest of the campers hitting the drums without speaking. Some of the rhythms are blatantly terrible and _wrong_ \- Eddy calls bullshit on the teacher who told them at the beginning of the hour that all of their explorations are valid and nothing is wrong. 

"I like you too much," Brett says finally. "I should stay away from you."

"Fuck that," Eddy says suddenly, a little too loud. "I killed myself to save you, in another lifetime. I'm not letting you go now. Ok?"

Brett looks startled, and then smiles. "You don't even like me. I made you cry, remember."

"I don't think you were letting yourself be liked," Eddy says. "I think if you were nice to me, I would like you very much."

"I'm not very good at being nice," Brett says. 

Eddy punches him lightly in the arm. "Just try, asshole."

Brett's silent for awhile again, chewing on his lip. Eddy likes having Brett here next to him, even when they're not speaking. Even though they're not quite friends... not yet. 

"Ok," Brett says. "I was lying, earlier. Your Beethoven is really nice actually, and I want to hear you play it again. And for the record, this isn't me being nice, I'm just being honest."

"Only if you play me your... " Eddy trails off as he realises he hasn't even heard Brett play yet, much less what repertoire he's working on. 

"Bruch?"

"Mmm, romantic," Eddy comments. "I should have guessed."

Brett rolls his eyes and kicks Eddy's foot. "Never mind, I take it back. If you're gonna make fun of me - "

"I was thinking of learning Mendelssohn violin concerto next," Eddy says. "But maybe I'll do Bruch instead."

"You play violin too?" Brett says, and then without pausing for a response, "That's so unfair. What's the latest thing you've played? Do you want to play my violin? _Will_ you? Wait - have you ever come to Brisbane for orchestra or competitions or anything? What orchestra do you play in? Do you play in orchestra? Have you ever played in a quartet before?"

Brett continues to ask non-stop questions, transforming into a totally different person, hands fluttering in excitement, eyes wide and bright, a far cry from the aloof boy in the mess hall the first time Eddy saw him. Eddy smiles broadly. They're gonna be fine.

*

_And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,  
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,  
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,  
A highwayman comes riding—  
Riding—riding—  
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door._

\- The Highwayman, Alfred Noyes


End file.
